


I'll Be Kind If You'll Be Faithful

by orphan_account



Series: aruba!verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Epilogue, Lunch Dates yay!!!, M/M, Reconciliation, Schmoop, Schmoop Everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now is the fourth time, Louis’ palms wet and clammy as he sits with them tucked between his thighs as he waits for Harry to meet him in the tiny Pret a Manger on King Street where they’d arranged to meet only two short hours ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Kind If You'll Be Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> Is this what I think it is? An epilogue? What?????????
> 
> Welp yes it's an epilogue because I decided to be kind to you all because you were all so kind to me, so this is my gift you y'all for making my Big Bang fic such a success. I wrote this in about two hours and it's un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Also, if you find any noticeable mistakes, please point them out to me so I can fix them!!
> 
> Keeping with the ongoing theme here, title is also from "Come To Me" by The Goo Goo Dolls

Louis can specifically remember three times in his life when he could physically feel his palms sweating.

The first time had been his first time hooking up with another guy, young and nervous but so excited, wiping his hands off desperately on the front of his jeans to make it seem like he wasn’t some scared virgin, even though he was. The second was the night he proposed to Eleanor, palms sweating around the velvet box he was holding in a death grip under the dinner table. Third was on his wedding day, sweating at the altar and hoping Eleanor wouldn’t mind how slick his hands were when he got to hold hers in his when she finally made it down the aisle.

And now is the fourth time, Louis’ palms wet and clammy as he sits with them tucked between his thighs as he waits for Harry to meet him in the tiny Pret a Manger on King Street where they’d arranged to meet only two short hours ago.

Louis’ leg is shaking nonstop under the table and he thinks if he has to wait any longer he’s going to chew a hole through his lip. His nerves are through the roof and every time the bell above the door jingles Louis swears his heart stops, and the relief he feels when whoever’s walking through the door isn't Harry could be enough to keep him flying high for days.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Harry, per se, he’s just nervous as all hell that he’s going to mess this up. He’s got so much to say and no idea how to say it, and he’s terrified that he’s going to wait too long and say the wrong thing and Harry’s going to realize something he should have the first time he’d spoken to Louis in Aruba – Louis isn’t worth all of the fussing.

He hates that, despite Harry’s assurance that he loves Louis just as much now as he did when Louis left him in Aruba, Louis can’t bring himself to believe it. Harry’s practically famous, for fuck’s sake, so what in the hell would he want to do with a guy like Louis who was too afraid of losing his perfectly structured, bland life that he gave up what was probably the best thing that ever happened to him?

The bell above the door jingles once again, and Louis doesn’t dare to even look up, leg jiggling harder and the taste of blood bursting against his tongue and he gnaws and gnaws and gnaws on his bottom lip.

“That’s a terrible habit, Lou.”

Louis’ head snaps up so fast he’s surprised his neck doesn’t break right there, and his heart starts to put in double time when he comes face to face with the person who’s haunted his dreams for the past year-plus.

Harry looks absolutely stunning, all long legs in cut off jean shorts and white v-neck and a brown satchel on his shoulder, unruly curls pulled back with a black, blue, and grey printed head scarf. His eyes look greener than Louis remembers, bright and big and beautiful, lips cherry red and pulled over white teeth in a happy grin.

He looks so fucking good, and Louis almost can’t believe he’s standing in front of him.

“I know, I know,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “I was just –“

“Nervous?” Harry says, still grinning as he pulls out the chair across from Louis and sits down.

“You could say that, yeah,” Louis admits, sheepish.

“It’s cool,” Harry says, grin wavering a bit. “I was – am – nervous, too.”

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Louis says, flushing a bit when Harry’s bright grin returns full force.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Harry says. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

“I’ve missed you too, Haz,” Louis says.

Harry ducks his head, still grinning as his face turns a dark shade of red.

He’s so beautiful, and Louis hates himself every time he remembers how much he hurt Harry the day he left, lies falling passed his lips and staining the relationship he and Harry had built together over those two weeks in Aruba, and Louis really hopes they’re going to be able to get passed the hurt.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Harry says, tucking a rogue curl behind his ear.

“Told you on the phone, love,” Louis says. “I’ve been off because school’s out for Easter hols and stuck in my flat grading the final essays I’d stupidly assigned to be due the day before break. Same old, same old.”

Harry chuckles, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a water bottle and banana. “You brought food to a café?” Louis snorts, raising an eyebrow.

“Haven’t got any cash on me currently,” Harry explains, flipping the banana and peeling it from the bottom, the way monkeys do.

“No cash?” Louis says. “What kind of world-famous rock star doesn’t have cash on him at all times of the day? What are you supposed to do if you’ve suddenly been struck with a whim to buy a Ferrari?”

“Shut up,” Harry says, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “All of my stuff is in the studio because I haven’t gotten the chance to settle into my new flat yet.”

Louis frowns, pursing his lips. “Harry, you didn’t have to come see me right away. You could have gone home and gotten settled first.”

“Seeing you was more important than settling in,” Harry admits, suddenly much more solemn than he was a moment before.

“Harry –“ Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“I know you’re nervous because you think I’m still angry,” Harry says, “but I’m not. A year is a lot of time to think, y’know.”

“I know,” Louis nods. “But just when I’ve convinced myself that you’ve forgiven me, I remember all the terrible things I said to you before I left and I’m back to thinking you hate me.”

“Louis,” Harry says, setting his banana down on a napkin. He reaches across the table, setting his big palm over top where Louis’ got his hands clenched on the table top, covering them completely. “I’ll admit that I was really fucking hurt when you left, but never once since you left has the word ‘hate’ crossed my mind. Yeah, I was fucking pissed at you and there were a couple times I wished I would have said some choice things to you that night, but I have never, ever hated you.”

“You are a better person at nineteen than I’m ever going to be, Harry Styles.” Louis says. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I love you,” Harry says and Louis’ eyes drop to the table, bottom lip betting sucked back between Louis’ teeth. It’s so surreal, hearing Harry say it out loud even though he’s heard it before over the phone. “I love you and I want to be with you. I don’t care if you think you don’t deserve me because you’re what I _want._ You’re what I’ve wanted since I first saw you at the cabanas and you’re still what I want a whole year and then some later.”

“Despite how shitty I was to you? You still love me?”

“I think I’d still love you if you told me to go fuck myself and jump off a bridge, or something,” Harry says.

“Would that even be possible? To fuck yourself and jump off a bridge? Think you’d want to fuck yourself beforehand.” Louis says. Harry sighs exasperatedly and rolls his eyes.

“You know what I meant,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, I know.”

“So?” Harry says, eyebrows raised.

“So what?”

“Are you going to say it back or what?”

Louis smirks. “Think I might leave you hanging, love,” he says.

“You’re a dick,” Harry huffs.

“But you love me,” Louis says.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “I really do.”

“Good,” Louis grins, turning one of the hands under Harry’s to twine their fingers together. “Because I really love you, too.”  
Harry’s face breaks out into another one of his giant, obnoxious grins, and Louis feels a bit dizzy with how much he’s missed watching Harry’s face light up like that.

“It’s so fucking nice to hear you say that in person,” Harry says.

“Glad you think so,” Louis says. “Because you’re going to be hearing it quite a lot.”

The rest of Harry’s- and Louis’ lunch date is spent over cups of coffee and cheese toasties that Louis bought, the air filled with small talk and random ‘I love yous” because Harry says they’ve got to make up for all the time that went by that they could have been saying it but spent being stupid instead.

Harry tells Louis all about the record deal and the new execs in London, about how they’re scheduling a small tour that’s three months long, playing a few select gigs around the UK to try to expand the fan base that they’d built up in the States. (“Three months?”

“You can come, if you want. School’s gonna be out for summer hols by then.”

“Think Josh will mind?”

“Just give him an hour or two to rant about how big of an asshole you are and how if you fuck up again he’ll cut your balls off and throw them in the Channel, and he should be okay.”)

They end up sitting in the Pret for hours, so long that the workers behind the counter start to eye them suspiciously and Louis has to go up and buy more toasties to stop them from thinking that he and Harry are going to rob the place, or something.  
Harry’s phone goes off as Louis’ licking the crumbs from his fingers, and Harry frowns as he reads whatever message has come across the screen. “Shit,” he says.

“Whass’it?” Louis says, plucking his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on a discarded napkin.

“I’m needed in the studio,” Harry says. “Some of the tracks need last minute touch-ups on the vocals, or so Josh says.”

“Does he know you’re out with me?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Gave me the whole ‘be back by this time or I’m going to be all over you’ dad speech, and everything.”

“Does he really hate me that much?”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t think he really hates you,” Harry says. “I think he’s just worried about me, you know? Doesn’t want to see me get hurt again.”

“Well I don’t plan on hurting you again,” Louis says. “Ever.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I know why you left the first time and I know you’re not going to do it again.”

“I wish I could just sit down with everybody back in Aruba that I pissed off and tell them why I did what I did,” Louis says. “Like, I don’t want to make up excuses, but I just want to explain and let them know it was never my intention to hurt you.”

“You left because you were trying to make me happy, I know,” Harry nods. “You didn’t plan on falling in love though, nay?”

“Not at all,” Louis says. “But I just couldn’t resist the curls. Which seem to have gotten completely out of hand in the past year, if I do say so myself.”

Harry flips him off, giggling as he does it. “Mum says it makes me look like a proper rock star.”

“Make you look like a proper border collie, does it.”

“You’re a dick,” Harry says. “Be grateful I love you, or I wouldn’t put up with you for a minute.”

“Lies,” Louis says. “You put up with me way before you knew you loved me.”

“That’s just because I was trying to get into your pants.”

“More lies,” Louis says. “I specifically remember Danielle telling me you don’t do flings.”

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. “I should never have let you be alone with her.”

“She gave me some valuable Harry-related advice,” Louis says.

Harry’s phone buzzes again before Harry can answer and Harry huffs in annoyance. “Josh again?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, typing out a quick reply before tucking his phone into his pocket. “I really have to go.”

“Rock star duty calls,” Louis says, sad that he has to say goodbye already.

“Walk me out,” Harry says, pushing his chair back and standing up. Louis follows suit, getting up and grabbing the light jacket he had slung over the back of his chair. It’s getting a bit dark out, the sun starting to set behind the buildings, sending a dusky light over the whole city. Apparently he and Harry had been sitting in the Pret for a lot longer than Louis had first thought.

Louis walks around the table and takes Harry’s hand when Harry offers it, throwing his jacket over his other arm. Harry squeezes his hand and grins at him, and Louis grins right back.

The bell above the door dings again as they walk out, and instead of causing panic like it had when Louis had been waiting for Harry to arrive, the bell brings about a wave of sadness because Louis really, really doesn’t want to say goodbye yet.

They walk a little ways until they reach the entrance to the Underground, and Harry turns to face him. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Louis says.

Harry gives a small smile and squeezes Louis’ hand. “I had a really great time today.”

“Me, too,” Louis says.

Harry bites his lip, looking up at Louis from under his eyelashes. He looks like he has so much left to say but not enough time to say it, so Louis slips his hand from Harry’s and pushes it into his curls instead, drawing Harry’s head down to him and kissing him the way he’s wanted to for the last year-plus. 

Harry’s lips are just as soft as Louis remembers them, pliant and lovely and they part to let Louis’ tongue lick inside. It’s probably so indecent, the thirty-six year-old and the nineteen year-old snogging outside the entrance to the Underground, pressed tightly together like they’re scared if they let even an inch of space between them, it’s going to rip them apart.

They part from the kiss with a slick sound and Louis flushes. Harry’s cheeks are just as red as Louis assumes his are, and Harry’s smiling so fucking wide, like he’s just gotten the best damn news in the world.

“I love you,” Harry says. “Don’t forget to call me.”

“I love you back,” Louis says. “And I wouldn’t dare forget.”

Harry leans in for another quick peck, cupping Louis’ cheek as he pulls away. “You make me so happy,” Harry says. “And I’m so glad we’re back together again.”

“Back together?” Louis says, a little breathless. “Didn’t know we were ever together in the first place.”

Harry slaps Louis lightly with the hand already on his cheek. “Shut up,” Harry says, dropping his hand from Louis’ face. “You know we were.”

“I know,” Louis says. “But we’re going to do it proper this time.”

“Proper?” Harry asks. “Like boyfriends and everything?”

“Boyfriends and everything,” Louis agrees.

Harry lights up again and Louis still thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“When am I going to see you again, boyfriend?” Harry asks and Louis feels a thrill at the word.

“Whenever you have time for me, rock star.”

“I’ll always have time for you,” Harry says. “But how about dinner tomorrow?”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” Louis says. “Let me know times tomorrow?”

“’Course,” Harry says. “I’ll let you know when you call me.”

Louis snorts, shakes his head. “Whatever you want, babe.”

Harry kisses Louis again, chaste. “I love you,” he says, “and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you back,” Louis says. The surrealism of being able to say it freely to Harry whenever he wants now still hasn’t worn off, and Louis doesn’t think it ever will, really. “See you tomorrow.”

Louis watches as Harry turns and goes down into the Underground, waving until he can’t see Louis anymore, and Louis thinks that those two weeks in Aruba, on the beaches and in the gorgeous sun and the grandness of the Riu weren’t paradise.

It’s standing next to this entrance to the Underground with the feel of Harry’s lips still burning on his, with the words ‘I love you’ fresh on his tongue, knowing that Harry’s his boyfriend and he finally gets to keep him and feeling so eager for everything that’s going to come next, that is Louis’ paradise.

And he’ll be damned if he lets any of those things go, because he plans on keeping this paradise forever.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.tomlinsuhhn.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> comments > kudos


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